


Simple Math

by winkingstar



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-12
Updated: 2007-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkingstar/pseuds/winkingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's having a bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Math

**Author's Note:**

> Originally [written](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/199994.html?thread=10220602#t10220602) for sheafrotherdon's [Hush Challenge](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/199994.html).
> 
> This story is also available as [a podfic](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/search/node/%22simple+math%22) (read by me).

Sometimes, John hates the world. Something puts him in a bad mood and he just keeps slipping further and further until eventually he reaches the point where everything makes him cranky, no matter how small.

This time, it started with breakfast on Tuesday: there were no more blueberryish muffins. Which was not actually a big deal, except it all went downhill from there. The trading mission that day didn't go well and ended with them fleeing a bunch of angry natives wielding spears and bows. Which was also not a big deal, since it's happened before. But then the gate wouldn't let their jumper back through to Atlantis and Rodney had to spend an hour writing an override program to get them through the gate. Once they were back, Rodney took off for the labs to find out why the gate wouldn't let them through and yell at the incompetent lab techs. Apparently, the problem had to do with the ever-present energy crises of the city.

Now it's Wednesday afternoon and still nothing is going right for John.

They are all small things, at least in that no one is being shot at or blown up or having the life sucked out of them, but they add up and John is really sick of all the incongruities of the Pegasus Galaxy right now. He sulks and sighs and sends a thousand SOS signals through the spaces between his words, but no one hears them. No one listens. Rodney would listen, but he hasn't left the labs since yesterday, still trying to make nearly-drained ZPMs keep working for another few months yet again. And they don't need guns to save the city this time, so there's nothing for John to do to keep himself from slipping further into angsty despair.

What he needs more than anything is some human connection, someone to ask how he is and actually listen to the answer. He knows he should find Teyla or Ronon and talk to them about something, anything. That's what he _should_ do. But he doesn't like asking for help and he hates revealing his insecurities to anyone. Besides, he's reached the point where he feels like snapping at anyone who comes within twenty feet of him.

He gives up on the paperwork for yesterday's failed trading mission and heads to the mess hall, where he spots Rodney making a beeline for the coffee. He has to work really hard not to run across the hall to Rodney's side, but he manages somehow to keep his legs to their usual leisurely stroll. He hasn't seen Rodney since he took off for the labs when they got back yesterday, which of course only added to his bad mood.

"Hey," he drawls, sidling up to Rodney at the coffee bar.

"Oh, hi," Rodney mumbles distractedly.

John notices the shadows under Rodney's eyes; he obviously didn't get any sleep last night which means he hasn't slept in more than thirty-six hours. He hates that Rodney forgets to take care of himself when he's busy trying to save everyone, but loves him for it too because John's the same way. It's why they need each other: to look after each other while they're saving the world.

John takes the thermos from Rodney's hands. He fills a mug with coffee and hands it to Rodney before filling the thermos.

"Thanks," Rodney says tiredly. He takes several gulps of coffee.

"How's it going?" John asks, screwing the lid onto the thermos.

"Oh, you know," Rodney snaps, waving a hand dismissively, "stupid idiots who can't tell a gamma from a lambda messing up my equations if I so much as give them one simple task to do on their own. If it weren't for me, we'd be back on the bottom of the ocean with no shields and we'd all be dead. And if I leave the lab techs unsupervised any longer, we'll likely die within a few hours anyway. I bet they can't even tie their own shoes." He finishes the coffee in the mug and takes the thermos from John, their fingers brushing together for a few all-too-brief seconds. He pauses as he's about to retreat to the labs again and asks, "How are you doing?"

John wants to say, _I'm in an awful mood and I can't make it right. No one sees me. I want to hide away from the world. I feel like I'm surrounded by equations that don't work. I miss you._ But Rodney is tired, and he has his own crises to deal with now, and John really doesn't like admitting how vulnerable he is sometimes.

"I'm fine," John lies, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Just bored 'cause you don't need C4 to save the city." He manages a smile, but it's lopsided and he's not sure how convincing it is.

Rodney rolls his eyes and says, "See you later."

And then John is alone again. There are lots of other people in the mess hall, but they don't count; they're not the variables John needs to fix his broken equations.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and takes one gulp before abandoning it and heading to the Jumper Bay. His instinct is always to keep running when he feels like this, anything to keep from staying still long enough to let the ache sink in. So he takes Jumper 3 out through the sunroof and flies around the planet, trying to outfly himself. Eventually he gives up and lands the jumper in an empty green field. He lies back on the grass and watches the sky fade from twilight to darkness, concentrating on each different shade of blue.

When he finally takes the jumper back to Atlantis, it's late and nearly everyone has gone to bed. He stops by the mess hall to grab a sandwich since he skipped dinner and eats without tasting on his way back to his room. He waves the door open and stops on the threshold, staring at Rodney sprawled in his chair in what looks to be a rather uncomfortable position. He's asleep, John notices when the door swishes closed behind him and he can hear the _whuffing_ noise of Rodney's sleep-breathing. John crosses the room and gently nudges Rodney's shoulder.

"Nrf," Rodney says sleepily. Then, "Hey."

"Saved the city again, huh?" John drawls.

"For the time being," Rodney mumbles.

"What are you doing here?" John asks. "You should be in bed, sleeping. You've been awake for over forty hours."

"I thought you might want some company," Rodney explains, struggling to keep John's face in focus. "You lied. When you said you were fine. You're not okay. So I thought, maybe..."

All the words have left John's tongue for the moment. Rodney noticed, and he came here even though he's dead tired, and he's _here_.

"Get in bed, McKay," John manages after a few moments. He pulls Rodney out of the chair and stumbles with him to the bed. He pulls off Rodney's shoes and then kicks off his own. Rodney's already half-asleep again when John settles back in the bed. John wriggles himself into the space between Rodney's arm and side, pillowing his head on Rodney's shoulder.

"Thanks," he whispers and Rodney mumbles incoherently in reply but wraps his arms around John protectively.

John squishes his face into Rodney's shoulder and closes his eyes to keep this feeling from spilling out. Rodney had a million other problems on his mind, but he noticed John's mood anyway, and John's never felt so special before, so wanted. The places where their bodies touch reassure him that _1 + 1 = 2_. It's the simplest of equations, so basic that nearly everyone forgets how important it is, but in the moments before he falls asleep John thinks it's the most beautiful equation ever written.


End file.
